


i. holding hands

by foundCarcosa



Series: 3o Days of Sebsino [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian asks a question, and Orsino answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i. holding hands

Beneath the sleeves of Orsino’s robes, his forearms are swathed in thin, stretchy black. The gauntlets extend over his hands, over his thumb, leaving only the first two joints of his fingers exposed.

He has always dressed like this, and most paid it no attention.

Sebastian is bold and quick-tongued, and he charms his way past the templar guards with talk of _counselling the first enchanter in religious matters_ and _simply a brief visit, nothing more, Maker keep you._ Orsino ceases to be surprised when the rogue in Chantry vestments slips into his office unheeded, uninvited, unexpected.

“You’ll incite suspicion,” Orsino warns him without looking up from his paperwork, quill scratching quickly over crisp vellum.

“I had a question,” Sebastian responds simply, perching on the edge of the desk, plucking the inkwell out of Orsino’s grasp. The first enchanter sighs, a smile already trying to creep onto his features, and sits back.  
Steadily he regards Sebastian, although after a time it becomes difficult to look at him without his mind wandering into untamed territory.

“Give me your hands,” and Orsino has no choice but to let Sebastian’s calloused fingers envelop his own.  
“Why do you wear these?”

Orsino barks a short, incredulous laugh, ignoring the stutter of his heart. “ _That_ was your burning question?” 

“No. My burning question was, _Will you take them off for me?_ But I was saving that one.”

The elf’s eyes drift down to his black-swathed hands, stark and small in Sebastian’s grasp, and his jaw tightens. “It is a long story—”

“All worthy ones are.”

“I’ve not told anyone—”

“How I’d enjoy being the first, then.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you.” Orsino snatches his hands back, misliking the way his tongue yearns to loosen. Mages were tricky, but the likes of Sebastian were trickier. He nestles his hands in the cradle of his lap, out of the rogue’s sight, but now that the memory has been awakened, it refuses to settle back into the darker depths of his mind.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Sebastian shifts, stands to his feet, smooths his robes and straightens his collar. “I had hoped you would, is all.”

“Harrowings are potentially dangerous things,” Orsino murmurs, and Sebastian’s hand pauses on the doorknob.  
“For everyone involved, not just the apprentice.  
I used to be… naïve, I suppose, or just foolish. If something went wrong, I’d attempt to jump in, as if I could stop what was happening before the templars could…

“Well, the last time I tried that, I nearly got my flesh flayed off.” His eyes cloud as he recalls the way he’d rushed forward, his hands out in what — surrender? pleading? …the preparation of a spell that would kill the abomination quicker than the templars could? The blinding flare and the scalding flesh of the demon that snatched at him had scorched away the finer points of the memory. “I don’t know what was supposed to happen to me — I suppose I would have been burned alive, or something worse — but the templars snatched me away, pushed me out, …took care of it.”

He flexes his fingers, splays them out on the desk, the tips of them feeling the vellum and wood and the rest of them feeling nothing at all. “After a time, the skin grew back. It’s barely scarred, in fact — I praise the healing work to this day.  
But it is still dead flesh. The nerves are shot. I don’t feel anything except here.” He indicates the first two joints of his fingers, the exposed ones.

Sebastian is as still as a placid sea, but his eyes are just wide enough to betray his shock. He steps away from the door and takes Orsino’s hands again, touching the tips of his fingers, then drifting over the covered palms, the covered wrists, digging his fingertips and then his nails in.

“Nothing?” he whispers incredulously.  
Orsino shakes his head.

“Needless to say, I consider myself fortunate,” the first enchanter reminds him. He can still touch Sebastian, feel the roughness of his flesh, feel the heat rising under his skin. And the rest of his body was still responsive, still original flesh, its various scarring inconsequential in comparison.

When his lad raises his fingertips to his lips and kisses them, he feels it in his fingertips. When his lad kisses the centre of his palm, he feels it in the heart of him, and perhaps that is just as good.


End file.
